Harry Potter: The Last Potter

The train's whistle gave a loud, piercing shriek as steam billowed into the air. Harry leaned against the window of his compartment, watching the platform as it began to blur. Families waved their goodbyes, and students laughed and chatted as they leaned out of the windows to yell last-minute farewells. The wheels began to grind forward, the train lurching as it gained momentum. Harry let out a breath, his mind still buzzing with the events of the morning.
The compartment he sat in was cozy but strangely tense. Pansy Parkinson, the self-proclaimed future Lady Potter, sat directly across from him. She was calm, almost eerily so, her hands folded neatly in her lap, and her emerald-green eyes fixed on Harry with quiet intensity. She hadn't said much since boarding the train, though her posture and occasional glances at him made it clear she wasn't ignoring him. For his part, Harry couldn't stop fidgeting. His fingers brushed over the smooth gold of the Potter family ring, its weight feeling heavier with every passing second.
"Will you stop that?" Pansy finally said, her tone clipped.
"Stop what?" Harry asked, looking up at her.
"Fidgeting. You're going to wear a hole into your trousers at this rate," she replied, her lips curving into a faint smirk. "You look like you're bracing for an ambush."
"Well, excuse me if I'm a little overwhelmed," Harry shot back, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "You drop this... this wife-to-be thing on me, and now we're off to a school full of people I don't even know. Forgive me if I'm not exactly relaxed."
Pansy tilted her head, studying him like one might study a particularly puzzling magical artifact. "You'll adjust," she said simply. "You're Harry Potter, after all. You'll have to."
Harry groaned, rubbing his temple. He was about to retort when the door to their compartment suddenly slid open, cutting him off. Standing in the doorway was a boy about Harry's age with a shock of flaming red hair and a smattering of freckles across his nose. Behind him stood a girl with bushy brown hair and front teeth that were slightly too large for her face, giving her a somewhat beaver-like appearance. The boy's expression was curious, while the girl looked as though she were ready to recite an encyclopedia at a moment's notice.
"Mind if we sit here? Everywhere else is full," the red-haired boy asked, glancing between Harry and Pansy.
Harry hesitated, glancing at Pansy, who raised a single eyebrow but said nothing. "Er, sure," Harry finally said, gesturing to the empty seats. The red-haired boy plopped down next to Harry without a second thought, while the girl took the seat across from him, directly in front of Pansy.
"Thanks," the boy said, grinning. "I'm Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley."
"I'm Harry," Harry said, shaking Ron's hand awkwardly.
"And I'm Hermione Granger," the girl added, sitting up straight as if she were introducing herself to a professor. Her eyes darted around the compartment, lingering on Pansy for a moment before settling on Harry. "You're Harry Potter, aren't you?"
Harry winced. He'd been expecting this question sooner or later, but it still made him uncomfortable. "Uh, yeah. That's me."
Hermione's eyes widened, and she leaned forward slightly. "I've read about you. You're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts. Oh, and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century. You're practically famous!"
Harry shifted uncomfortably, feeling his cheeks flush. "Yeah, I've heard," he muttered.
Pansy let out a soft, derisive snort. "Practically? Please. He's the most famous wizard alive. The Boy-Who-Lived. The savior of the wizarding world. It's not as though anyone could forget," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Ron blinked, looking between Harry and Pansy with a confused expression. "Er... and you are?" he asked, directing the question at Pansy.
"Pansy Parkinson," she said coolly, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Parkinson."
Ron's ears turned red, and he quickly looked away, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "bloody Slytherins." Hermione, meanwhile, was still focused on Harry, her curiosity apparently insatiable.
"So, is it true?" Hermione asked. "About the You-Know-Who thing? I mean, you survived the Killing Curse, didn't you?"
Harry felt his stomach churn. He hated talking about that night—the night his parents died. "I... I guess," he said, avoiding her gaze.
Hermione opened her mouth to ask another question, but Pansy cut her off. "You know, it's terribly rude to interrogate someone about their traumatic past," she said sharply. "Perhaps you should focus on minding your own business."
Hermione flushed, looking taken aback. "I wasn't trying to be rude," she said defensively. "I was just curious."
"Well, curiosity can be a dangerous thing," Pansy replied, her tone icy.
The tension in the compartment was palpable, and Harry could feel a headache coming on. "Okay, can we not do this?" he said, running a hand through his hair. "Let's just... talk about something else."
Ron, sensing the awkwardness, cleared his throat. "So, uh, what House do you think you'll be in, Harry?" he asked, clearly trying to steer the conversation in a safer direction.
Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I don't really know much about the Houses."
Ron's jaw dropped. "You don't know about the Houses? Blimey, mate, what have you been doing your whole life?"
"Living with Muggles," Harry said flatly.
"Oh," Ron said, looking sheepish. "Well, you'll probably be in Gryffindor. That's where I'm hoping to go. All my brothers were in Gryffindor, so it's kind of a family thing."
"What about you?" Harry asked, looking at Hermione.
"I don't really care where I end up, as long as it's somewhere I can learn as much as possible," Hermione said earnestly. "I've read all about the Houses, of course. Gryffindor values bravery, Ravenclaw values intelligence, Hufflepuff values loyalty, and Slytherin values ambition. They all have their merits."
Pansy smirked. "Of course they do," she said. "But let's be honest—Slytherin is the only House that truly matters."
Ron scowled. "Yeah, if you want to end up as a dark wizard," he muttered.
Pansy's eyes flashed, and for a moment, Harry thought she might hex him on the spot. But instead, she simply smiled, a sharp, predatory smile that sent a chill down Harry's spine. "Careful, Weasley," she said softly. "You wouldn't want to offend someone of status."
Ron opened his mouth to retort, but Hermione quickly grabbed his arm. "Let's not start a fight," she said firmly.
The rest of the ride was filled with a tense mix of awkward conversation and uneasy silences. Harry found himself increasingly overwhelmed by the weight of his new reality. He was Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the heir to a powerful wizarding family, and now, apparently, the future husband of Pansy Parkinson. His life had turned upside down in the span of a single day, and as the train sped toward Hogwarts, he couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.
An hour into the train ride, the comforting clatter of wheels on tracks was interrupted by the cheerful voice of the witch pushing the food trolley. "Anything from the trolley, dears?" she asked, her cart loaded with an impressive array of sweets and snacks.
Harry's eyes widened at the sight. He'd never seen so much candy in one place, let alone wizarding treats like Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. His excitement was palpable as he stood and reached for his pocket, pulling out a handful of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts.
"I'll take... well, one of everything," Harry said, grinning as he handed over far more than the asking price.
The trolley witch looked surprised but happily accepted the money. Ron, however, stared at Harry like he'd just declared he owned a dragon. "Blimey, Harry! That's—do you know how much that costs? That's... that's probably a month's worth of food!"
Harry shrugged, unfazed. "It's fine. I've got plenty," he said casually, handing Ron a Chocolate Frog and a Pumpkin Pasty. "Here, help yourself. And you too," he added, tossing a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans to Hermione.
Ron's ears turned red, though whether it was from embarrassment or envy, Harry couldn't tell. "You're mental," Ron muttered, though he eagerly tore into a package of Acid Pops.
Pansy, who had been observing the entire scene with an amused smile, sidled closer to Harry and looped her arm around his. She rested her head lightly against his shoulder and gave him a warm, almost smug look.
"Um... why is she hugging your arm?" Ron asked, his mouth half-full of magical multicolored jumping beans that were, to Harry's slight alarm, actually bouncing around in his mouth.
Harry hesitated, unsure how to explain. "Oh, well, she's kind of..." he began awkwardly, only for Pansy to cut him off.
"He's my husband-to-be," Pansy said matter-of-factly, her voice calm and confident as though she were announcing something as ordinary as the weather.
Ron choked on his beans. Hermione's eyes snapped to Pansy, wide with disbelief.
"Sorry, what now?" Ron said, coughing as he looked between Harry and Pansy like they'd both grown two heads.
"It's a simple concept, Weasley," Pansy said with an almost predatory smirk. "I'm engaged to Harry. It's been arranged for ages."
"Arranged?" Hermione repeated, her brow furrowing. "But... you're only eleven! How can you be engaged? That doesn't even make sense."
"It makes perfect sense in the wizarding world," Pansy said, lifting her chin. "Traditional pureblood families often form alliances through marriage contracts. The Parkinsons and Potters have a long history of working together."
Ron's expression morphed from shock to indignation. "That's mental! Harry, you're not actually going along with this, are you? You don't have to do what she says!"
Harry opened his mouth, struggling to find the right words. He glanced at Pansy, who was watching him expectantly, then at Ron and Hermione, both of whom looked like they were ready to stage an intervention. "I... look, I don't really know what's going on, to be honest," he admitted. "I only found out about all of this just before I got on the train."
Ron threw up his hands. "Exactly! You don't know her, mate. She could be making it all up!"
Pansy bristled at the accusation, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "How dare you—"
"Okay, let's not fight," Harry interrupted, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "Look, Pansy's not making it up. There's this... ring." He held up his hand, showing the Potter family ring. Its gold band gleamed faintly in the compartment's light, the crest etched into its surface unmistakably regal.
Ron stared at the ring like it was about to explode. "What's that got to do with anything?"
"It's the Potter family ring," Pansy explained, her tone laced with condescension. "As soon as Harry put it on, the engagement was sealed. It's a magical contract."
"Magical contract?" Hermione echoed, her curiosity momentarily overriding her shock. "How does that even work? What kind of magic binds people like that?"
"It's ancient magic," Pansy said smugly. "Far older than anything you'll find in your precious textbooks, Granger."
Hermione's cheeks flushed, and she folded her arms. "That still doesn't make it right. Harry shouldn't be forced into something he didn't agree to."
"I'm not forcing him into anything," Pansy said coolly. "The contract was arranged by our families. Harry is the head of the Potter family now, and he's bound by its terms. He's free to reject it if he wants, but doing so would have... consequences."
"What kind of consequences?" Ron asked suspiciously.
Pansy's smirk returned. "Let's just say it would be... unwise."
Harry groaned, leaning back in his seat. "Can we not talk about this right now? I've had enough surprises for one day."
Ron still looked unconvinced, but he didn't press the issue further. Hermione, however, continued to eye Pansy warily, as though trying to unravel a particularly tricky puzzle. The rest of the compartment fell into an uneasy silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of wrappers and the soft clinking of candy boxes.
As the train hurtled toward Hogwarts, Harry stared out the window, his thoughts a chaotic swirl of uncertainty. He had no idea what awaited him at the castle, but one thing was certain—his life had taken a turn he could never have anticipated.
As the train chugged steadily along into the evening, the golden glow of the setting sun began to pour through the windows of the compartment, bathing everything in a soft, warm light. Harry, still adjusting to this strange new world, had spent the past few hours observing his companions. Ron, who seemed to have an endless supply of energy, had taken to wandering up and down the train, poking his head into other compartments and chatting with anyone willing to lend him a moment of their time. Harry couldn't decide if Ron was being friendly or just trying to avoid staying in one place for too long.
Meanwhile, Hermione had buried herself in an absolutely massive book. The tome was so large that Harry couldn't help but marvel at her ability to hold it steady. From what he could see, it was crammed with text so dense that it made even the Dursleys' dry tax forms look like light reading. She was muttering under her breath as she read, lips moving silently, and occasionally jotting notes on a small piece of parchment she had tucked beside her. Harry was certain the book had to be at least 4,000 pages long, though Hermione didn't seem at all daunted by it.
Pansy, on the other hand, had claimed Harry's lap as her personal resting place. Sometime after Ron had left on his latest social excursion, she had stretched out across the seat, laid her head on Harry's thighs, and promptly closed her eyes. She looked remarkably at ease, as though lying on Harry was the most natural thing in the world.
Harry, however, was anything but at ease. His face was burning as red as Ron's hair, and he was acutely aware of every shift and movement she made. He didn't know what to do or say without risking offending her, so he remained awkwardly still, his legs slowly going numb under her weight.
Just as Harry was beginning to wonder if he might need to amputate his legs before they reached Hogwarts, the door to the compartment slid open with a soft whoosh. A boy with slightly disheveled hair and wearing a wool sweater stood in the doorway. His face was flushed, and he looked both harried and hopeful.
"Excuse me," the boy began, voice tinged with nervousness. "Has anyone here seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one."
Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Pansy was quicker. Without even lifting her head from Harry's lap, she cracked one eye open, her gaze sharp and impatient.
"Buzz off," she said curtly, her tone making it clear that she had no interest in assisting with lost amphibians. She then closed her eye again, snuggling deeper into Harry's lap as though the interruption hadn't happened at all.
The boy blinked, clearly taken aback by her abruptness. "Oh... right, sorry," he mumbled, backing out of the compartment and sliding the door shut behind him.
Harry sighed, unsure whether he should apologize on Pansy's behalf or just let it go. Hermione, however, looked scandalized.
"That was incredibly rude," she said, snapping her book shut and fixing Pansy with a stern glare. "He was just asking for help."
Pansy didn't even bother opening her eyes this time. "And I gave him an answer," she replied lazily. "It's not my fault if he doesn't like it."
"Not your fault?" Hermione repeated, incredulous. "You could have at least been polite about it!"
Pansy finally sat up, much to Harry's relief, as feeling began to return to his legs. She stretched like a cat and gave Hermione a cool, dismissive look. "I don't waste time on things that don't concern me," she said simply, brushing an invisible speck of dust off her sleeve. "And a lost toad is hardly worth my concern."
Hermione looked ready to argue further, but Harry quickly intervened. "Alright, let's not fight," he said, raising his hands in a calming gesture. "The toad's probably halfway to Hogwarts by now anyway."
Hermione huffed and reopened her book, clearly dissatisfied but unwilling to press the matter further. Pansy smirked triumphantly and settled back into her seat, though thankfully this time she refrained from using Harry as furniture. Harry let out a quiet sigh of relief and leaned back, staring out the window at the rapidly darkening landscape.
The rest of the evening passed in relative peace. Ron eventually returned, arms laden with Chocolate Frog cards and stories about the people he'd met along the way. He plopped into the seat beside Harry and launched into a detailed description of a pair of identical twins who had been showing off a series of elaborate pranks. Hermione, meanwhile, continued to read, occasionally making noises of interest or disapproval at whatever was written in her book. Pansy seemed content to watch Harry, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips whenever he glanced her way.
As the train sped through the night, Harry found himself wondering what lay ahead at Hogwarts. He couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and apprehension. One thing was certain: if the train ride was any indication, his life as a wizard was going to be anything but ordinary.
As the rhythmic hum of the train began to lull Harry into a semi-conscious state, his eyelids growing heavy with exhaustion, the sudden screech of the brakes sliced through the stillness. The sharp hissing sound from the train's steam engine snapped him fully awake, his heart racing for a moment as the train jolted slightly. He blinked, disoriented, as he tried to shake off the lingering fog of sleep.
Pansy, who had been curled up in the seat next to him, stirred as well. She stretched, arching her back with the fluid grace of a cat, her movements exaggerated as if to make a point. Harry's attention, however, was pulled elsewhere when he noticed the way she adjusted her position, shifting just enough that her chest brushed uncomfortably close to Ron, who had been dozing in the seat opposite them.
Ron's face turned a deep shade of red as Pansy, noticing his flustered reaction, leaned back with a playful smirk. "Like what you see?" she asked, her voice laced with mischief. Her tone wasn't exactly teasing, but it was enough to make the air between them feel awkward.
Ron, clearly caught off guard, sputtered in embarrassment, his cheeks still burning. "No! Why would I..." He trailed off, clearly flustered, as if the very idea of acknowledging Pansy's insinuation was foreign to him. He added hastily, "Your family are snakes."
Pansy didn't flinch at the insult. In fact, she just raised an eyebrow and smirked. "So was your ninth grandfather on your mother's side, but nobody seems to care about that," she shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She stood up fluidly, reaching for her bags with a flick of her wand. The bags levitated from the seat, floating beside her with ease, as she glanced toward the compartment door.
With a dismissive wave of her hand, she turned to walk out, her posture exuding both confidence and a clear disregard for the tension that had momentarily hung in the air. "I'll be outside if anyone needs me," she said, and without waiting for a response, she stepped out into the hallway, the door sliding shut behind her with a soft click.
Ron, left stunned and slightly speechless, shifted uncomfortably in his seat, still processing the exchange. He glared at Harry, not quite knowing what to say. "What is with her? Seriously," he muttered, still trying to recover from the awkwardness of the moment.
Harry, who had been watching the exchange in quiet amusement, felt a grin tug at the corner of his lips. "I think she enjoys getting under your skin," he said, stretching his arms. His mind was still swimming in a mix of thoughts from the past few hours, but he could tell that Ron was still having trouble coming to terms with the strange dynamic between him and Pansy.
"Well, she certainly has a way of doing that," Ron grumbled, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat. "I don't get how you can put up with her."
Harry shrugged, the smile fading slightly as he considered how best to explain it. It wasn't easy, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized that Pansy's attitude was just a surface level reflection of something far deeper. "She's not as bad as she seems, Ron," he said, though he wasn't sure even he believed that. Pansy had her quirks, some of which were easier to overlook than others.
Ron seemed unconvinced. "Yeah, sure, whatever you say, mate," he muttered. He turned his attention to the window, his thoughts drifting away from the conversation.
The rest of the train ride passed in a haze for Harry, his thoughts bouncing between the strange interaction with Pansy, the impending arrival at Hogwarts, and the unease that still clung to him about the whole situation. For the first time, he realized just how different things were going to be now that he was in the wizarding world, surrounded by people he didn't quite understand.
But for the moment, he let himself lean back and try to enjoy the journey. It was, after all, only the beginning.
As the train's screeching brakes faded into the distance, the students disembarked into the chill of the evening air, still feeling the lingering hum of the journey's excitement. But no sooner had Harry set foot on the platform did a voice, deep and booming, cut through the air, causing everyone to stop and look.
"First years! All first years, gather round!"
Turning toward the voice, Harry saw the towering figure of Hagrid, his bushy beard reaching halfway down to his stomach, his massive frame even more imposing now that he was standing in the light of a flickering lantern. The lantern's flame, however, seemed to defy logic, casting an unusually bright glow in spite of its modest candle. It was one of those little details that made Harry's mind spin with wonder.
"A wee bit o' magic," Hagrid explained in a low, conspiratorial voice, catching Harry's and the other students' curious stares. "Don't tell nobody. I's not meant to be doin' none magic on account of some nonsense from a ways back," he added, with a wry smile. He turned away, his massive boots clunking against the ground as he began to walk toward the waiting boats.
The lantern swayed gently in his grasp, casting a warm, golden glow on the cobbled path leading through the mist. The eerie, shifting fog seemed to wrap itself around their legs, adding an almost dreamlike quality to the scene. Students, still half-dazed from the long train ride and the promise of the unknown, quickly realized this was the signal to follow, and they began moving in his direction.
As they walked, Harry felt a knot of curiosity tighten in his chest. "What's that about?" Ron muttered, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Some nonsense from a long time ago?"
Harry glanced at his friend, equally puzzled by Hagrid's cryptic words. "I don't know," he said quietly, his mind racing. What could Hagrid have meant by that? He was clearly skilled with magic, and yet he was almost embarrassed by it, as if it were something forbidden. It made no sense, and Harry was already beginning to feel the weight of the mysteries surrounding this world.
But there was no time to ponder it further. The mist thickened around them as they approached the boats, the shadows of the Hogwarts castle looming on the horizon. With every step, the atmosphere seemed to grow more surreal. The mist, the glow of the lantern, the eerie silence—everything felt like a piece of a puzzle that wasn't yet complete.
As they reached the boats, Harry noticed the other students standing in a huddle, their expressions a mix of awe and confusion. The boats themselves were small and wooden, their surfaces slick with condensation. Harry's eyes wandered across the misty expanse of the lake, where the water was dark and still, reflecting nothing but the faint light from the lantern and the outline of the distant shore.
The first boat began to drift, rocking gently as it began its journey across the lake. Without a word, the students filed in, one by one, and Harry followed suit, climbing into one of the boats. The other students settled in around him, and Harry noticed the atmosphere was thick with anticipation. No one spoke much, though the occasional murmur of excitement was exchanged. It was hard not to feel that sense of wonder, standing on the edge of the unknown, knowing that Hogwarts—the very heart of magic itself—was waiting for them.
As the boat began to move, the air grew colder, and the mist swirled thicker, making the world feel like it was shrinking into nothing but fog and shadows. In the distance, the outline of Hogwarts began to emerge from the mist—towering spires and turrets reaching up toward the darkening sky. Its many windows glowed warmly, like watchful eyes, observing the first years as they sailed closer.
Pansy, who had been unusually quiet during the train ride, leaned forward in the boat, her expression unreadable as she gazed out at the lake. The wind tousled her dark hair, and for a moment, Harry wondered what was going through her mind. But then she spoke, breaking the silence with a lightness that felt out of place in such a mysterious atmosphere.
"If I fall in," she said with a mock-serious tone, her gaze shifting to Harry. "You had better come save me, Harry, or else I'll hunt you down as a ghost and give you nightmares."
The strange statement was followed by a wide, playful grin, though her eyes seemed to gleam with a challenge. Ron, who had been rowing beside Harry, merely rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, "That girl of yours... she's nuts."
Harry couldn't help but chuckle, though the sound was somewhat hollow, swallowed up by the eerie quiet that surrounded them. Ron's words were true in a way; Pansy did seem to have a penchant for making things feel unnervingly intense. But Harry had already started to realize that Pansy's behavior was just part of the strange dynamic that had begun to form around him since his arrival in the wizarding world.
"She does have a way of making things... interesting," Harry remarked with a dry smile, though his gaze remained fixed on the distant silhouette of the castle.
The boat rocked gently beneath them as they continued their slow journey across the water. Harry could feel the chill of the night air creeping in, but the excitement was stronger—he could almost taste it, a tingly anticipation that danced through his limbs. He couldn't wait to see what lay beyond the mist. The path ahead was shrouded in mystery, and he was only just beginning to uncover the secrets of the world that awaited him at Hogwarts.
The sound of water lapping against the sides of the boats gradually faded as they entered the massive boathouse, its high ceiling echoing with the soft splashing of oars and the scurrying of feet. The dim glow from the lanterns on the boats seemed to be swallowed up by the vastness of the space. Harry, still trying to soak in the surreal atmosphere, followed Hagrid's lead as they docked the boats along the stone platforms. The air was cooler now, a sharp contrast to the warm buzz of anticipation that had settled in their chests on the boat ride.
Once the boats were secured, Hagrid led the way out of the boathouse, his long strides taking him up a narrow path. The stone steps that followed wound upward, twisting their way around the base of the hill on which Hogwarts had been built. The climb was steep, and Harry's legs ached from the long day of travel. However, no one seemed to mind the exertion—the magical energy surrounding them was enough to keep everyone moving forward, driven by curiosity and excitement.
As they ascended the staircase, the view behind them opened up, and for the first time, Harry saw the full grandeur of the castle in the distance. It loomed above them like a fortress of old, its many towers stretching up into the sky. The glow of the windows flickered like fireflies, casting a warm light that seemed to beckon them onward. Harry's heart raced as he wondered what awaited him inside those ancient walls.
The stone staircase wound its way up to a set of massive, wooden doors. The doors were aged with time, their wood darkened and weathered, yet still imposing and grand. They looked as though they had stood there for centuries, guarding the secrets of the school. A slight breeze from the mountain swept through the courtyard, carrying with it the scent of pine and earth.
At the top of the stairs, standing just before the great wooden doors, was a witch. She was tall and thin, her long black robes flowing behind her like a shadow. On her head perched a pointed hat, so tall it almost seemed to reach the sky. The most striking thing about her, however, were her glasses—round, with thick lenses that magnified her sharp eyes, and perched low on the long, thin bridge of her nose. Her expression was stern and serious, yet not unkind.
She stepped forward as the students approached, her heels clicking sharply on the stone floor.
"First years," she said, her voice clear and commanding, cutting through the hushed murmurs of the students. "You will follow me. Second years and above, you will go to the left and enter through that door." She gestured toward a massive stone archway to the side, where older students were already beginning to filter through. "I trust you can find the way to your houses from there."
Her words hung in the air for a moment, and Harry couldn't help but feel the weight of them. They were being separated, divided from the older students. This was their moment, their first step into Hogwarts.
Before anyone could ask questions or voice their nervousness, the witch turned sharply on her heel, her robes swishing behind her like a shadow as she opened the massive wooden doors with a slow, deliberate motion. The doors groaned with the effort of parting, revealing an entry hall that was just as grand as the castle's exterior.
Harry's breath caught in his throat as he stepped through the doors. The sight before him took his breath away. The entrance hall was vast, stretching up into a cavernous ceiling, the walls adorned with tapestries and shields, the air heavy with the scent of old stone and candlewax. The flicker of hundreds of torches bathed the space in a golden glow, and the warm, inviting light seemed to pulse with the rhythm of the castle itself.
The witch motioned for the first years to follow her once more, and they began to move forward, stepping onto the cool, polished stone floor. Harry glanced around, his eyes wide with awe. He couldn't stop looking at everything—the grandeur of it all, the whispers of magic that seemed to hang in the air.
"Over here," the witch called, leading them toward a smaller passage to the right. The other students, already deep in conversation, had begun to filter toward the left, heading to their respective common rooms. Harry, however, couldn't help but feel a sense of exclusivity to the first years. This was their moment.
The passage they were led down was lit by more torches, and Harry's steps quickened as they descended deeper into the heart of the castle. He couldn't help but notice the way the walls seemed to close in around them, like the castle itself was drawing them in. At the end of the passage, the witch stopped and turned to face them, her sharp eyes scanning each student with a look that seemed to see straight through them.
"This is where you will wait," she said, her voice still calm but filled with a quiet intensity. "The Sorting Ceremony will begin shortly. I trust you'll behave yourselves."
With that, she stepped back into the shadows, leaving the group of first years to stand in an uneasy silence. The air was thick with nervous energy. Pansy, who had been quiet during the walk up to the castle, was now fidgeting, clearly impatient. Ron and Hermione were both silent, though Harry could feel the questions bubbling up inside them, just as they were inside him. What would the Sorting Hat decide? What house would they be in?
But those questions would have to wait. For now, they stood in the cool, stone corridor, waiting for whatever came next. And in the distance, Harry could hear the faint echo of students' voices, and the sound of the Sorting Ceremony about to begin. The night, it seemed, was just beginning, and Hogwarts was just starting to reveal its secrets.
The tension in the air was palpable as one by one, the first-year students were called to the front to be sorted. The room fell silent each time a name echoed through the hall, the anticipation of which house each student would belong to hanging in the air like a thick fog.
Boys and girls alike stepped forward, their black Hogwarts robes crisp and clean, their faces a mix of excitement, fear, and curiosity. As each student sat on the wooden stool before the Sorting Hat, Harry noticed how the room seemed to hold its breath in unison, as if the very walls were waiting for the Hat's decision. The Hat itself appeared almost ancient, worn with age and usage, its broad brim slightly askew atop each student's head before it whispered its choice into the air for everyone to hear.
The first to be called up was a thin, nervous boy named Andrew, who walked shakily to the stool. The Sorting Hat barely touched his head before it shouted, "Gryffindor!" The students in red and gold robes cheered, and Andrew made his way to the Gryffindor table with a relieved smile.
One by one, more names were called, and with each decision, the corresponding house colors burst out in joyful, gleaming threads—red and gold for Gryffindor, blue and bronze for Ravenclaw, yellow and black for Hufflepuff, and green and silver for Slytherin.
Pansy, who had been standing at the back, seemed to fidget more and more as each name was called. Her hands twisted nervously in front of her, her eyes darting back and forth between the Sorting Hat and the other students. Harry could sense the tension in her posture, as though she were preparing for something, but unsure if it would go the way she hoped.
Finally, her name rang out, "Pansy Parkinson!"
The room went silent, every eye fixed on her. With a quick breath, Pansy walked up to the stool, and the Sorting Hat was placed upon her head. There was a long pause as the Hat appeared to deliberate, its wide brim shifting slightly. Pansy's breath caught, and for a moment, Harry wondered if she was holding her own breath in anticipation.
"SLYTHERIN!" the Hat shouted, and the room erupted in applause from the Slytherin table. Green and silver robes shimmered as Pansy made her way to her seat, a small smile curling at the corner of her lips. Ron rolled his eyes at the decision, muttering something under his breath about how it was obvious, but Harry couldn't help but notice how Pansy held her head a little higher now, like she had just won a small victory.
The next name called was Hermione Granger, who seemed as tense as Pansy had been. She stepped forward with the same nervousness, but when the Hat touched her head, it seemed to take a bit longer. The room held its breath as the Sorting Hat hummed quietly to itself, shifting from side to side. Finally, it cried out, "RAVENCLAW!"
The applause from the Ravenclaw table was immediate and loud, and Hermione, who had looked like she might faint from anxiety, let out a small breath of relief. Her robes gleamed in the blue and bronze light, and she made her way to the table, her face flushed with both pride and embarrassment. Harry smiled in her direction, but her attention seemed to be fully absorbed in the congratulations coming her way from her new housemates.
Harry's name was called next, and the entire room seemed to quiet just a little bit more. His heart thudded in his chest as he walked up to the stool, the cool wood under his hands. When the Hat was placed on his head, he felt a strange rush of emotions—confusion, excitement, fear, and an overwhelming sense of destiny. The Hat muttered in his ear, its voice oddly deep.
"Hmmm... difficult... so much bravery, so much ambition... but there's more to you, more than just those traits. You have courage, but you also understand the need for cunning... intriguing..."
Harry felt the Hat shift and consider for what seemed like forever. He waited, his hands sweaty, his thoughts racing. What if it chose something other than Gryffindor? What if he didn't fit? But the Hat seemed to have come to its decision.
"SLYTHERIN!" the Hat boomed, its voice echoing off the walls.
The Slytherin table erupted into cheers, and Harry blinked in surprise. He had expected Gryffindor—he had felt like a Gryffindor—but now, the weight of Slytherin's decision was on him. He could feel the eyes of the room on him as he stepped forward, feeling a bit dizzy with the realization.
Then, before he could fully process everything, Pansy, who had been sitting quietly at the Slytherin table, jumped up from her seat and ran toward him, her arms outstretched. "I knew it! I knew it! I knew you'd be Slytherin!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug, as if Harry had just won her some prize. Her excitement was contagious, and despite the confusion he felt, Harry found himself smiling a bit at her enthusiasm.
Ron, who had been watching the scene unfold, shook his head in disbelief. "That girl of yours... she's nuts," he muttered under his breath, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice as he turned back to his own plate of food.
Harry was still processing the fact that he was a Slytherin when Pansy pulled away, her hands resting on his shoulders as she beamed at him. "I told you! We're going to have such a great time together, Harry!" she said, her voice bubbling with excitement.
Harry managed a small smile, trying to shake the feeling of disbelief. He wasn't sure what to expect from his time at Hogwarts, but it was clear that his journey was going to be anything but ordinary.